


Leaving Home

by Evil_Little_Dog



Series: Little Things [66]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Canon - Manga, Canon Het Relationship, Community: fanfic_bakeoff, Community: fmagiftexchange, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Implied Relationships, POV Male Character, POV Second Person, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Ed hates leaving home, particularly right now.<br/>Disclaimer:  I own absolutely nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaving Home

You told yourself you were going to be different than your old man, not going to be some sort of fucking absent father. Not for your kids. And here you were, breaking that promise, on a train heading west, while your wife is pregnant and in the late stages of the final trimester of your second kid. Work sucks, you hate leaving Winry and Simon like this, but the bastard can be persuasive, even when you were screaming, “No, I’m not going, our baby is due in less than ten days!”

You want to run off the train at the next station and catch the next one heading east, go back _home_ and hug your wife tight, make sure she knows how much you love her. And your fucking duties are what’s tearing you away now – you’re the one the bastard Fuhrer calls on when he needs an alchemist of genius caliber; even if you can’t transmute anything any more.

You know you’re lucky – Winry understands priorities, sometimes better than you do, and she sent you off with a hard hug and a long kiss, and you know, somewhere tucked into your luggage is a letter, or a couple of pictures that you’d never share with anyone (and you’re kind of embarrassed to wonder _just how_ Winry got them taken – let alone developed).

You get off the train in West City, grinning at the pair of M.P.’s waiting for you. As they lead you to the car, telling you the barest info on what you need to know, you hope this will be over soon, so you can tear this fucking masquerade smile off your face, and hurry back home, where you belong.


End file.
